Rubbish (Part 2 of the Underworld Stories)
by Nemesis dan Impyrean
Summary: A tale of souls as they're born and broken. Tasked to watch millions upon millions of souls as they travel from death to life, Ryou mulls over the grim details of his job - trashing the souls broken beyond repair. He's a gentle immortal, not fond of his duties, but he knows the importance of his role. It's all thrown back in his face when he finds the one soul he let go to ruin.


In the cycle of life, death, and rebirth, it wasn't uncommon for souls to end up a little damaged. Of course, not physically - souls sometimes lost their morals, or a few emotions, or maybe even the ability to retain memory.

Sometimes the immortal in charge of checking souls just sent them on through anyway. Ryou was never sure whether it was from pity or laziness, but it was a pain when those souls came back completely broken. They had to be destroyed without any hope of being fixed.

That was his job.

And it wasn't a very fun one. Ryou sat on his chair, arms crossed over the backrest as he watched souls file quietly through the gateway. They all looked the same, but he kept his eyes peeled anyway.

Then one came along. Ryou sat up as a soul with thin, white cracks running through it stepped through the gates.

"You there!" he called out, waving. All the souls glanced at him.

"Not you. You. No, the one behind you. Yes, you. Can you come over here for a second?"

As the soul approached him Ryou looked it over. Flaws were visible to him in the form of white breaks. Sometimes, it was still salvageable. He had to be careful, though - if the soul was missing any parts and he sent it ahead…

Ryou frowned. "Can you face the other way?" he asked the soul. It was alright from the front.

The soul scowled. "Why?"

"Um… So I can make sure you're whole?" Ryou said, confused at the sudden hostility.

"I'm fine," the soul snapped, taking a step back. It looked at itself, but Ryou knew it couldn't see the cracks. Only he could - a side effect of having his particular job. "Why did you even bother?"

It also sounded… defensive. Ryou's interest was piqued. "Turn around," he ordered.

When the soul glared at him, the immortal turned the soul around roughly. There, in the middle of it's back, was a gaping chunk missing. In contrast with the soul's somewhat transparent and grey body, the jagged edges glittered darkly. Ryou sighed as his suspicions were confirmed.

"You're broken," he said regretfully. He expected the soul to scream or run at this point. That was usually what happened when he delivered the news.

Instead, the soul laughed. "Broken? Of course I'm broken!" It shrank away slightly as Ryou stepped closer, but otherwise it stood tall. "That's all anybody says. So what?"

"So, you have to be destroyed," Ryou said. He didn't much like the way the soul was reacting - had he maybe sent off a broken soul by accident before? He couldn't remember doing so.

The soul suddenly moved, taking Ryou by surprise. Something buried itself in it's gut, and Ryou looked down to see the soul's hand on the ground. He realized what happened slowly - somehow, the soul ripped off it's hand. The result was a limb sharp enough to act like a serrated knife.

Unfortunately for the soul, Ryou was immortal. "What's your name?" he asked gently, prying the soul's arm out of his body. The wound filled out, not a single drop of blood making an appearance.

"Why do you care?" the soul ground out, holding it's arm up in an empty threat.

"I just do."

The soul glared at Ryou. "Bakura," it finally admitted. It bent down to pick up it's hand, holding it at it's side without any sentiment. The white cracks pulsed slightly as they grew, causing the soul's features to come apart slightly.

And then Ryou remembered.

There had been one soul that escaped from him, at the very beginning. Out of the one thousand and one original souls, there had been a mistake. Created with a small crack in it's chest, the soul had caught Ryou's attention.

Of course, none of the other immortals could see it.

The one in charge of recycling them couldn't sense such a small flaw.

The one that fixed them never knew, because Ryou failed to capture the soul. It had been tricky, proud, and defiant. He worried for a soul that was born broken, but there was nothing he could do once it made it's way to the world of the living.

It's first name was Bakura. It seemed it had been given the name once again, at least in it's previous life.

Now that he knew, he recognized the soul. Paying no heed to it's discomfort, Ryou peered closer at it's chest. There - he saw the familiar pattern of white. It was distorted, and far larger, but it was there. He closed his eyes.

"Sorry," he told the soul. "I didn't mean for this to happen."

"For what to happen?" Bakura asked, it's eyes narrowing.

Ryou dug his fingers into the cracks of the soul's skin, wincing at the scream it emitted. Quickly he started to rip the soul apart. Souls didn't look like much when they were torn asunder - like dark glass statues that had shattered. The soul stopped making any sound, but Ryou knew it was merely unable to do or feel anything. He gathered up the pieces.

Holding them close to his chest, Ryou teleported to another part of the underworld. He stood at the edge of a vast cavern.

It was here he was supposed to dispose of the broken souls. They would never find their way out of the darkness.

Ryou really hated his job. He looked down at Bakura, and the face of the soul looked back. They locked gazes for a moment. Then, the soul mouthed three words - a feat ordinarily impossible. Startled, Ryou let go of the soul. The fragments tumbled down into the cavern as Ryou stared after it, stricken.

It must not have been merely cracked at the beginning.

It must have been broken already.

That was the only explanation Ryou could think of, though it didn't explain anything at all.

 _I remember you_.


End file.
